Once on a december evening 

I came across a cold home in the middle of nowhere 

Where I perched on a window that was opened just slightly 

Outside it was dark and filled with cold air 

I couldn't see much since the window wasn't bare 

But through the curtains I could see a man, sitting lonely in his chair 

Above his fire place hung a picture of his lost love 

Someone he was mourning while he just sat, looked up, and stared 

He sat very small in front of the large stone wall

I couldn't sense his thoughts, he didn't seem all that present or there

I think he heared me tapping because he looked a little scared

Yet he just sat without motion in his velvety chair 

His fire kept blazing as he watched it with patience

I cried out and tapped until he showed care

At first he seemed confused 

But short there after he heard me again and got up unaware

He cracked open the window and glared

I quickly flew in as he settled back into his big arm chair

He turned around to look up at me

To his lonely open house “lenore” he declared

I didn’t know what to do but stay perched on top of his chamber door

He tried to get me to leave as if I was harming him but that would be rare

How can a raven hurt such a man in despair 

To this day I stand without motion watching over his home, as he sits quietly in that very same chair